


Bitter Parting

by HASA_Archivist



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Drama, Post-War of the Ring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-27
Updated: 2002-10-28
Packaged: 2018-04-06 12:15:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4221347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HASA_Archivist/pseuds/HASA_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arwen says farewell to her family. Tolkien hinted at this scene, but did not write it. So I have. Complete! Brethren and Father done, so what more is left to say, who is left to tell goodbye? Read and find out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Brethren

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the HASA Transition Team: This story was originally archived at [HASA](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Henneth_Ann%C3%BBn_Story_Archive), which closed in February 2015. To preserve the archive, we began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in February 2015. We posted announcements about the move, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this author, please contact The HASA Transition Team using the e-mail address on the [HASA collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/hasa/profile).

**Author's Note:**  
I know squat about Elvish. I've got memorized maybe three things,  
including the "star shines" line everyone knows. Thus, I will not dishonor  
the language by attempting to write in it. No "ada" for "daddy", no other  
Sindarin pet names. Simply assume Arwen, the twins and Elrond are speaking  
their native language. If anyone is interested in translating the dialog  
to Elvish, feel free. Just email me the results, as I am in awe of anyone  
who actually speaks, reads and writes properly in the language.

*******

"....and Arwen Evenstar remained also, and she said farewell to her  
brethren. None saw her last meeting with Elrond her father, for they went  
up into the hills and spoke long together, and bitter was their parting  
that should endure beyond the ends of the world."

\----Return of the King, pg 955-56

***

Elrohir and Elladan are in good spirits. Some would find this surprising,  
given the circumstances, but I know my brothers well. Their hearts hold  
infinite acceptance, even for choices they do not approve. I know they  
would not be parted from me in this manner, had they their way. But they  
also know my love for Estel is true. As they would not be parted from each  
other, so I will not be parted from my love. And so brothers and sister  
must be sundered for all time. It is a melancholy parting, but not a  
bitter one. The twins know I am happy, thus, they are happy for me.

Elrohir grins impishly at me. I suspect he has a tickle in mind. Sure  
enough, my brother abruptly grabs me around the waist and tickles  
mercilessly. I laugh and bat feebly at his hands, not truly wanting him to  
stop. Elrohir has tickled me since I was tiny. He adores it, more so  
because he knows how much I loathe it. This time, however, knowing that it  
is the last time, I do not want him to stop. But he does. He does not let  
me go, though. Rather, he pulls me into a rough hug.

"So, Little Glimmer, this is goodbye," Elrohir murmurs into my hair.  
Though I bore the name Undomiel from birth, as a child my brothers did not  
think I was big enough for such a grand nomenclature. The nickname brings  
tears to my eyes. I pull away from Elrohir before I lose my composure  
altogether.

Elladan stands stiffly next to him, stoic as always. How very like Estel  
he is! Though I should properly say Estel is like Elladan, for I know my  
love patterned his stern demeanor on that of my brother. I was not there  
when Aragorn was a child, a fact I never know whether to regret or rejoice,  
but I have heard many stories. Elrohir delights in making both his  
brothers blush with tales of imitation and irritation. Oh, I will miss  
those!

I will have none of Elladan's stern elf-lord routine. I launch myself at  
him, grabbing him in as rough a hug as Elrohir gave me. I care not for  
dignity, or appearances. I want to hold my elder brother one last time.

Elladan wraps his arms around me. I can feel him trembling with suppressed  
emotion. He has never been one to voice his feelings, or show them in any  
way if he can avoid it, but I have always been able to tell what he hiding.  
Now, he is hiding a terrible grief, and I am the cause. Elladan's  
silence, even more then Elrohir's endearment, breaks through my fragile  
self-control. I weep.

"Shh, Arwen, please, do not cry," Elladan whispers into my hair. Elrohir  
strokes my back, adding his comfort to his twin's.

How can I leave them? These are my brothers, blood of my blood. I have  
loved them longer than Rohan has existed as a country. Never in all those  
long years did I expect to be parted from them this way. Now I will never  
see them again. Never endure Elrohir's pranks. Never tease Elladan for  
his stoicism. Never know their support when I have done something to  
displease Father. Never share memories of Mother. They have given me so  
much, and in return, I abandon them. Even for my beloved Estel, I cannot  
do this. But it is too late to change my mind. So I weep for what I have  
done.

My brothers let me cry for a few minutes. Then Elladan holds me at arms  
length. Elrohir stands shoulder-to-shoulder with him, and I am struck by  
how alike they look. They regard me with identical expressions. I do not  
tell the twins that I regret, but they know my mood anyway. I sniffle as  
the silence lengthens.

Finally, Elladan speaks. "You have made the right choice, Little Glimmer,"

he reassures me. "You and Estel are meant for each other. All can see it,  
even at a single glance. You glowed with happiness at your wedding,  
Sister."

"We know you will miss us, even as we will miss you," Elrohir continues  
when Elladan falls silent. "But think on this, and tell me truly: Would  
you not wither and die without Estel, even in the Undying Lands?"

I have no answer for that. I know he speaks the truth. Elrohir has always  
been adept at getting to the heart of my hurts. Now, as ever, he says  
exactly what I need to hear to heal. I nod, and force a smile. "But I  
will miss you so!"

"We know, Arwen. We know. But you will be happier this way. And I know  
you will not forget us," Elrohir replies. Elladan nods his agreement.

"No one could forget you!" I cry, pulling them both into another hug. "Be  
well, my brothers. Take care of yourselves, and our parents."

"And you, Little Glimmer, take care of Estel. You know he is useless  
without an elf around to help him," Elrohir teases.

"Since we must leave, you will have to bear this burden alone, Arwen. I

wish you luck. You will need it," Elladan adds, his rare humor shining  
through.

"That I will, my brother! You have no idea what a handful that man is!" I  
laugh. The melancholy mood is broken. My brothers and I will part on a  
happy note.

I kiss them both farewell. They smile, and kiss me back. "I love you  
both, and always will."

"As we love you, and always will. Be well, Arwen, and never regret your  
choice. You have made the right one," Elrohir speaks for both twins.  
Elladan ruffles my hair, then my dear brothers take their leave. I sigh.  
I will miss them.


	2. Father

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arwen says farewell to her family. Tolkien hinted at this scene, but did not write it. So I have. Complete! Brethren and Father done, so what more is left to say, who is left to tell goodbye? Read and find out.

Now that I have said farewell to my brothers, I must do the same with my  
father. I am not sure I am up to this challenge. I doubt that the guilt  
and loss I feel will be lightened with laughter and teasing, as it was with  
the twins. This parting will be nothing but bitter, I am certain. Still,  
I cannot simply let my father go without a word. As painful as it is, I  
must speak to him.

He is not in Edoras itself, which is as I expected. A city of Man is not  
the proper place for what we must say to each other. Imladris would be  
more appropriate, if we must be in a city, but we are not there. And I  
will never be there again.

With these melancholy thoughts for company, I make my way into the hills  
above the city. I do not need to think about where he is, since he is not  
in the city. There is no place else my father would go.

He has climbed the highest hill near Edoras. How very like Father, to seek  
out height if he cannot have forest. He stands with his back to the path,  
the wind ruffling his hair. His posture bespeaks sorrow. Oh, I cannot do  
this. I cannot, but I must.

"Edoras is beautiful this time of year, is it not?" I ask in greeting.  
Cowardly, Arwen, to begin with trivialities. There is too much to say to  
waste time like this, but I cannot find my tongue for more.

"Indeed," Elrond responds curtly. Is he angry with me still? Or simply  
holding his hurt in, disguising it with short temper? I cannot tell.

"The view from here is stunning," I say. I remain at a loss for words, but  
I cannot stand the silence. Thus, I babble meaningless drivel. I disgust  
myself.

Father merely grunts. He has not turned, has not moved to embrace me, has  
barely responded at all. I stand behind him for several minutes, willing  
him to turn or speak, yell, berate me, even strike me, anything at all, but  
he does not. He simply stands there, his back to me, silent.

I can feel my heart shatter as he ignores me. I wait for a few more  
moments for some sort of response, then I turn to leave. Tears stream  
unheeded down my cheeks. I did not expect such a thorough rejection.

I get four steps away before he calls my name. I turn back towards him.

"Father?" I respond, hoping against hope.

"Don't go. Not yet," he says, turning at last. His cheeks are as  
tearstained as mine. The last time I saw the Lord of Imladris weep, my  
mother was boarding her White Ship. I push that thought away as I run into  
his arms. I cling to my father and sob into his robe. I can feel his own  
tears drip onto my hair.

"I did not wish to hurt you, my father," I mumble.

"I know, my Undomiel. I know," he replies, stroking my hair. Our tears  
prove to be the catharsis needed; the wall between us is broken. We sit on  
the soft grass of the hill, and talk. We speak of many things. Mostly, we  
reminisce, for Father loves to tell stories of my childhood as much as I  
love to hear them. Occasionally the conversation turns to politics. I  
wonder if Father is not determined teach me everything there is to know  
about the governing of a people in these last hours, as if I have not  
trained for this all my life. Were this not our last talk, I would grow  
irritated. Now, I soak up everything he has to give as parched land soaks  
up rain. I cannot get enough, for I know I will never again hear Elrond's  
wisdom.

We talk long into the afternoon. As the sun sets, I sidle up to my father,  
cuddling as I have not done in a very long time. Father wraps his arm  
around my shoulder to hold me close, as unconcerned with propriety as I.  
No one can see us, after all, and we will not have this chance again.

We fall silent, content to enjoy each other's company and watch the sun  
set. It is uncommonly beautiful this evening. Every color known lights  
the sky, almost as if the sunset would console us with its beauty. It even  
works, for a short time. But then the evening star appears, and a sense of  
melancholy returns.

"You were born at this time of day, Arwen," Father comments. "Because of  
that, I wanted to name you after the twilight. But your mother would have  
none of it. She said you were a noble lady, and that would be your name.  
As you know, I could deny Celebrian nothing, so Arwen you became."

"But you did not think that fit exactly, did you, Father?" I ask, picking  
up my cue. I have heard this story countless times.

He smiles down at me. "No, I did not. But your mother truly loathed the  
idea of naming you after the time of day you were born, so it seemed I  
would simply have to live with her choice of name. Then, the midwife gave  
you to me to hold for the first time. You smiled at me, the most beautiful  
thing I had ever seen in all my long years. The first star of the evening  
appeared at that moment, and shone down upon your smile. I knew then you  
were the Evenstar of our people, and should bear that name as well as the  
one your mother chose. 'Twas a sign. Even Celebrian saw it, and agreed,  
though she would not give up her original choice. And that is how you came  
to bear two names, my Undomiel."

Father hugs me close and kisses my forehead. I sigh, content for the  
moment. Then my father speaks again, and my contentment is shattered.

"Do you truly love him, Daughter?" he asks.

I pull away from his embrace, sit up and stare at him, appalled. "How can  
you ask that? After all we have been through, after all the time I have  
waited to have him, after what I have given up to be with him, you still  
question my love for him?"

"I am sorry, Arwen. I ask only out of a father's need to be certain. I  
know the answer, that you love him beyond words, as he loves you. I did  
see you both when you wed, child. The love between you cannot be denied.  
It is pure and real, and plainly visible for all to see. Forgive me?" he  
practically begs me. Elrond, Lord of Imladris, Bearer of Vilya, who  
marched with Gil-Galad, begs my forgiveness.

I smile and hug him. "Of course I forgive you, Father."

He sighs. Apparently, he truly feared that I would hold onto my flash of  
anger. As if I could ever remain angry with him for long over anything.  
Still, I can feel him trembling in my embrace. There is little I can do to  
comfort him.

I nestle back into his arms. We watch the rest of the stars come out in  
quiet companionship, as we did when I was small. Neither of us is eager to  
end this last interlude.

"Arwen?" he asks after a time. He sounds hesitant.

"Yes, Father?" I reply, choosing to overlook his uncertainty. Elrond of  
Imladris has never liked to have his flaws pointed out by his children.  
Normally, that does not stop us, but today, I leave him his dignity.

"What will I tell your mother?"

The question brings me up short. Never did I stop to think of this. Oh, I  
thought of my mother, but mostly my thoughts were of missing her, wishing I  
could talk with her of things only females know, desiring to tell her all  
about Estel, wanting her to be with me at my wedding. It never occurred to  
me that someone would have to tell her of my choice and my doom. Of  
course, that someone would be Father.

I take the time to give the question its full consideration. This seems to  
worry my father, to judge from his expression. The silence lengthens as I  
think. Father fidgets, which is a very rare thing. Finally, he can stand  
the quiet no longer.

"Arwen?"

"I am thinking, Father. This is not a question to answer lightly," I say.  
He frowns, but does not push me. What should he tell Mother? I am  
embarrassed that I did not prepare for this. Whatever message I send to my  
mother must convey my happiness, as well as letting her know that I made  
this choice of my own free will, aware of the consequences.

Finally, I have the answer. In part, I can thank Elrohir, for his words  
inspired me. I turn my full attention to Father. He is more nervous than  
I have ever seen him. More nervous than he was even before his famed  
Council, and then I thought his head would explode from tension. Elrond  
does not show his nerves easily, but I know him well enough to recognize  
them when I see them.

"Tell Mother that as she loved you, so I love Estel. Tell her that without  
him, I would wither and die, yes, even in the Undying Lands. Tell her that  
as you let her go, so she must let me go. And tell her that I love her  
still, and will never forget her." That is all  
I can think of to say. I hope it is enough.

Now it is Father's turn to be silent, and my turn to fret. He considers my  
message, his brow furrowing in thought. Finally he nods. "That is what I  
shall tell her, then."

Now it is full night, and there is nothing left to say. The moon rises,  
lighting the path back to Edoras. Father stands, brushing the grass from  
his robe. I follow his lead. He pulls me into a hug, holding me so  
tightly, it is difficult to breathe. I do not complain. I just listen to  
his heartbeat.

At last, he speaks. Always the voice of wisdom, Father says, "Come, child.  
We must return. It is late, and you will be missed."

"So will you, Father." I am not referring to the people of Middle Earth,  
though they also will miss Elrond, when he leaves.

He pauses for a moment, before we go. Father takes my chin in his hand and  
tilts my face up to look at him. I smile sadly, feeling tears build.

"Remember, my Undomiel, that no matter where your path takes you, I will  
forever love you. You are always in my heart, Daughter," he say softly.

I am crying in earnest now. "As are you, my Father. Always, as are you."

Father wipes away my tears, then pulls me into yet another hug. We tremble  
and cry for I do not know how long. All too quickly, however, it is time  
to leave. We hold hands as we make our way back to the city. There is  
nothing to say, so we do not speak. But the love and the loss hang palpably  
between us. We regret being parted, but we know there is no other path to  
walk. The moon sets, and all is shrouded in darkness.


	3. Mother

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arwen says farewell to her family. Tolkien hinted at this scene, but did not write it. So I have. Complete! Brethren and Father done, so what more is left to say, who is left to tell goodbye? Read and find out.

**Author's Note:**

I have absolutely no clue if elves can speak to each other in dreams at all, let alone all the way from the Uttermost West. Honestly, I don't care. If you believe they can, then it's a real communication. If you believe they cannot, then it's a vivid dream. The story works either way.

*******

Years pass, but a few, though they seem more. I settle easily into my new  
life, until it feels as though I have never lived another. The people of  
Gondor accept me as their Queen without reservation, so I do my best to be  
worthy of their devotion. I must also work hard to be a fit companion to  
Aragorn. He is a spectacular ruler. It takes all my training to match his  
innate skill. I do well enough, I think. I hope.

Life is happy. That is, until I receive the letter. Then, all the  
melancholy I have worked so hard to put behind me comes flooding back. I  
rarely take advantage of my position as Queen, but this day I do. I excuse  
myself from my duties and retire to the chambers I share with Estel. There  
I sit before the fire and brood.

I have not had much time to indulge my low spirits when my King comes in.  
I should have known he would notice my absence and look for me. Concern is  
plainly written on his face as he enters. He kneels before me and asks,  
"Are you well, my wife?"

"As well as can be expected," I reply, trying to smile. I can see in his  
eyes that I fail.

"What has happened?" he asks gently. My love is so in tune with my moods,  
there is no hiding from him. I do not even try.

"I received a letter from young Samwise. The Ringbearers have sailed West.  
They will have reached Tol Eressea by now," I tell him. I cannot prevent  
tears from filling my eyes, though I do manage to keep them from falling.

He takes my hand and strokes it, to comfort me. "Did all of them leave?"

he asks.

"All but Sam," I reply. I am not certain what else he would expect. I  
have long known both my father and my grandmother grow weary. The loss of  
the One Ring took much from their own rings, which in turn took much from  
their spirit. I knew they would soon leave, as would Mithrandir, who's  
task is finished, and Frodo, who's hurts I did not truly think would heal.  
I would not have given him my grace had I believed otherwise.

"Did the twins go as well?" Estel inquires. I know he does not mean to  
hurt me, but he has. Still, I cannot refuse to answer his question. I can  
refuse my love nothing.

"I do not know," I answer curtly.

"Hmm," he mumbles. "I cannot picture Elladan and Elrohir as weary of  
Middle Earth already. They are very full of life."

"Estel, I do not know!" I snap. I have not seen my brothers since I bade  
them farewell that day in Edoras. I know not if they avoid me, if they  
have sailed West, or if they are simply unaware of the passage of time,  
being busy mopping up orcs and other leftover evils in the world. I  
suspect the latter, but it does not really matter. We said our goodbyes  
already. More is not needed. More would merely hurt. Or so I insist to  
myself.

My husband recoils from my sharp tone. He drops my hand and stands, hiding  
his hurt. "Shall I leave you alone, Arwen?" he asks softly.

Instantly, I regret taking out my temper on my love. I stand, walk to him,  
take him in my arms and smile up at him. The smile is forced, but genuine.  
I am struck again by how good he feels in my arms. "Actually, if you can  
be spared from your duties, I would have your company today."

"Then you shall have it, my Queen," he replies. He disentangles himself  
from my arms briefly, to give the message of his absence to a servant, then  
he returns to me. "What would you have us do, dear heart?"

"Just keep me company, please. I feel very much alone right now," I say.  
He nods, and leads me to the small couch I had just vacated. We curl up  
together, and trade stories of the Ringbearers. He knows more of Frodo and  
Mithrandir than I, but I have more memories of Elrond and Galadriel than he  
has years, so we are even. We recall only good things, never the dark  
times. Soon, we are laughing.

My heart is much lightened, but still I feel a vague emptiness. Estel  
notices the sorrow under my mirth. "Do you regret your choice, my love?"

he asks, his voice tight with worry.

"Regret? No, I do not regret for a second. I do miss what I have lost,  
though, and always will," I reply.

He sighs. "I wish I could help you."

A thought occurs to me. I grin mischievously up my beloved. "You can.  
You can remind me of what I have gained in return for what I have given  
up," I say, playfully running my fingers through his hair.

His smile lights up his face. He whispers, "That I can do."

I want badly to feel his kisses, to drink deeply of his life, and remember  
the love we share, rather than the family I have lost. I pull him towards  
me and kiss him deeply, feeling his soul merge with mine. He scoops me up,  
carries me into our bedchamber, and proceeds to thoroughly and passionately  
remind me of how much I now have.

Much later, I lie cuddled up around him, sated. Aragorn sleeps deeply, for  
I have worn him out. I, however, find it hard to slow my thoughts enough  
for slumber. I close my eyes and try to relax, to rest my body if not my  
mind. I lay there for I do not know how long. Suddenly, I hear a soft  
voice, calling my name.

"Arwen?"

I glance over at my husband, but he sleeps the sleep of the well-loved.  
Even if he were awake, the voice could not be his. It is female.

I look around, to see who would be so bold as to invade the sanctity of my  
bedchamber. To my everlasting surprise, standing at the foot of my bed,  
aglow in silver and white, is Celebrian.

"Mother?" I ask, not believing what I see.

"Yes, child. Your father told me of your choice, and gave me your message.  
I have come to see for myself that you are happy, and determine what sort  
of man has won your heart," she tells me.

I am nothing short of astonished. To see my mother again, after all these  
years, after I had given up all hope of it! I move to go to her and  
embrace her, but she stops me with a gesture.

"Do not move, Little One. This cannot last long, and will shatter if we  
touch," she says, stern and sad, just as I remember her.

"But Mother..." I plead.

"But nothing, child," she interrupts. "Time is short, and you have much to  
tell me. Is that your Man?" she asks, nodding towards Estel, who snores at  
my side.

I smile down at him, proud and joyful. "Yes. Is he not beautiful?"

Mother does not answer me right away. Instead, she stares at my husband,  
taking his measure even as he sleeps. At last she says, "Indeed, he is at  
that. His kindness and nobility shine through even in sleep. I think I  
see why you chose him. Still, I would have liked to see you again, my  
daughter."

"Mother, I..." I begin to defend my decision, to tell her that my devotion  
to Estel left no other choice. Again, she interrupts.

"There is no need to explain, Arwen. The message you sent with your father  
was explanation enough." She sighs, and smiles. "And if it was not, to  
see how you glow with love for him now is all the confirmation I would ever  
need. Be happy, daughter. That is all I ever wanted for you, to be happy.  
If this man makes you so, then with him is where you should be. Take care  
of him, and the child you have created with him."

"Child?" I squeak, astonished beyond describing. I had no indication I am  
with child. Perhaps tonight? No, not possible. I am Eldar, I would know.  
Wouldn't I?

When I tell Mother this, she smiles knowingly at me, but says nothing.  
Silently, she glides up from the foot of the bed to stand beside me. She  
leans down and whispers to me. "It is good to see you again, my child,  
happy and well, but I must go now. Be content in your chosen path, my  
Arwen. And know that I love you."

"I love you too, Mama," I answer, using the endearment I have not needed  
for millennia. She smiles, brushes her lips against my forehead, and is  
gone.

The next morning, I am in high spirits, singing and smiling. Estel  
notices, and comments on it.

"Of course I am in a good mood, my love. I have cause to be. You, sir, are  
going to be a father," I inform him gaily.

I have the rare pleasure of striking Aragorn speechless. Oh, he has been  
know to be taciturn enough, but at a loss for words? Not my Estel. This  
morning, however, he can only stare dumbly at me.

"Close your mouth, dearest. You look like a deer caught in torchlight," I  
instruct him.

My husband's brain finally catches up to my announcement. A huge smile  
breaks across his face, and he sweeps me into his arms, spinning me around  
before setting me on my feet again. "I am to be a father!" he cries in  
joy. "When did this happen?"

"Last night. I had a vision, or perhaps a dream. Congratulations, my  
love," I laugh. He silences my laughter with a thorough kiss.

"I love you, Arwen Evenstar. You do know that, don't you?" he grins.

"Of course I do. And believe it or not, I love you too, Estel, Aragorn,  
Elessar Telcontar, once called Strider, who has far too many names for one  
man. And now you can add Father to your list," I tease.

"And you can add Mother, my lady. You, a mother. What is the world coming  
to?" he throws the teasing back at me.

I punch him playfully on the shoulder. He pretends to fall, staggering  
back onto the bed. "Enough of this foolishness. We were idle enough in  
melancholy yesterday. Today, we must work. The running of the kingdom  
will not wait forever," I scold.

"Yes, of course. And we have an announcement to make!" He is pure joy  
personified.

I should not dampen his enthusiasm, but I would hold this to ourselves a  
bit longer. "My love, let us wait on announcements until we are certain."

"I thought you were certain?" His disappointment is almost comical.

"I am, but your advisors will not believe it. They have little faith in  
the skills of the Eldar. So, we should wait awhile longer. Besides, I  
would cherish this between us for a bit. Please?" I bat my eyelashes  
outrageously at my love.

He signs, smiles, and lets me have my way, as I knew he would. He pulls me  
in his arms for another kiss. "What should we call the babe?"

"Aragorn! I am barely pregnant and already you wish to debate names? We  
do not even know what it will be!" I protest.

"It's just....I was thinking," he begins.

"That is dangerous, love," I interrupt.

"Hush, you. Let me finish. I was thinking, if the babe is a boy, we  
should name him after Elrond somehow. Not 'Elrond', exactly, but something  
that calls that to mind. What think you, dear heart?" he asks anxiously.

I take a deep breath. What better way to celebrate new life, and hold onto  
the love now lost to me? "I think that is altogether fitting. Suddenly I  
remember why I love you. Now, come. We must break our fast, and make our  
appearances in Court."

Aragorn's smile widens, a thing I did not think possible. He kisses me yet  
again. "I would rather stay here, Arwen, but you are correct as always.  
Tonight, though. Tonight, we celebrate, just you and I. And the baby," he  
says, his hand on my belly.

I nod in complete agreement. But we have procrastinated enough. It is  
time to begin our day. I follow my husband out of our chambers, and head  
back into my life. It is good.

*******

**Author's Note II:**  
I couldn't find out when Eldarion was born. The only info I did  
find was that Arwen lived happily with Aragorn for sixty years, and that  
Eldarion was "a man full-ripe for kingship" when he died. Given the  
longevity of the Dunedain, I don't find it unbelievable that Eldarion would  
be in his late fifties and still considered to have years of kingcraft left  
in him.


End file.
